


Make Our Garden Grow

by fairmellarky



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:07:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairmellarky/pseuds/fairmellarky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss Everdeen has her life together. It's predictable and familiar. Until Peeta Mellark comes along and shakes things up. Written for S2SL.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Our Garden Grow

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this story is based on a song from the opera Candide. The lyrics can be found here:  
> http://www.metrolyrics.com/make-our-garden-grow-lyrics-barbra-streisand.html  
> And a video of the lovely Babs singing it here:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=08otiP_aTTk
> 
> The video quality isn't that great, but I highly recommend checking it out before reading this.
> 
> As always, I don't own anything Hunger Games related, and I'll never be as awesome as Suzanne Collins. It's her world, I just mess with her characters.
> 
> A HUGE thank you and lots of hugs go to Chelziebelle. This story literally would not have happened without her. She took the piece of garbage I originally sent to her and turned it into something beautiful. It wouldn't have a title either :) I am so grateful. Chelzie, you are the Beta Queen.

"You've been a fool and so have i  
But come I'll be your wife  
And let us try before we die  
To make some sense of life  
We're neither pure nor wise nor good  
We'll do the best we know  
We'll build our house and chop our wood  
And make our garden grow"  
Make Our Garden Grow, Candide

 

I sit back on my heels and brush the dirt from my hands and clothes. The newest addition to my garden, a hydrangea plant that I had cross-bred to have purple and blue swirled petals, is planted firmly into the soil. I reach for the watering can to my side and douse the base of the plant with a generous amount of water. The rich soil soaks up the liquid and I smile to myself, thinking that it's a sign of growth to come. The sight of the plant leaves me feeling content, filled with a pride that I always get whenever I’m helping something grow.

“Ahem, Miss Everdeen?” a deep voice speaks tentatively from behind me. I startle before remembering that I have an appointment this afternoon. A quick glance at my watch tells me that I am over twenty minutes late. I stand and turn toward the voice, brushing the rest of the dirt from my clothing. Before me stands an attractive couple, all blonde hair and blue eyes. His jaw is strong and set, while her features are dainty. The sun glints off of the large diamond ring settled on her left ring finger.

“I'm so sorry. You must be Peeta Mellark and Delly Cartwright. I just got so caught up in planting these flowers that I lost track of time,” I apologize, making sure my hand is clean before reaching out to shake first hers, then his. “Welcome to Twelve Gardens. Let's take a walk so you can get a look at the grounds.”

I begin winding along the path through the gardens, Peeta and Delly following closely behind. I point out various flowers and plants as I go, telling them about how the grounds look during the different seasons. After a few minutes we end up at the ornate, elaborately designed gazebo that sits in the middle of the property. I stop and turn to the couple.

“This is the area where most couples choose to have their ceremony and reception. It's a particularly beautiful area here, and it's one of my favorite parts of the grounds. The good thing about doing everything here is that you can have your ceremony, pictures, and reception all in one place,” I tell them.

“You can stop selling yourself, Miss Everdeen, we're in love,” laughs Peeta.

I blush. “Please, call me Katniss,” I tell him.

“Katniss? What an interesting name!” Delly exclaims sweetly.

“It's a plant. My father was a botanist; he started these gardens and I guess he loved his job a little too much. My sister's name is Primrose,” I say with a smile. “Shall we head into my office to talk details?”

I lead them back through the lush plant life and into the main building. It's a large, spacious room lined with exhibits detailing most of the species that we house and small tidbits explaining the research that I do here. My office is tucked into the back.

Peeta and Delly sit down in front of my cluttered desk and I perch on the edge of my chair behind it. I open a folder and hand them a few brochures.

“Now I have a caterer that I work with here, but you're more than welcome to bring one from outside if you wish. I also can do the flowers for you myself, if that's something you're interested in. What month and year are the two of you planning for?” I look up at them.

“Well, I was thinking maybe June of next year?” Delly asks.

I flip through my desktop calendar. “Okay, we have the seventh, the fifteenth and the twenty-second available.”

Delly and Peeta share a look. “How about the fifteenth?” Peeta suggests.

“Great. That gives us just over a year to get everything together. Now, our standard policy requires a ten percent deposit to ensure your spot. I have the Cartwright/Mellark wedding tentatively penciled in, but why don't you decide on what package you'd like to go with so we can work out the pricing? Give me a call next week and we can get everything set in stone,” I say with a smile, standing behind my desk. The couple before me rises as well.

“Sounds great. Thanks for seeing us, we'll be in touch soon,” Peeta says warmly, reaching to shake my hand. I grasp his large palm in my own and my stomach clenches. I don’t know why, but I like the feel of his hand in mine.

I sit back down after they’ve shown themselves out of my office, feeling slightly ashamed. He's definitely good looking, with his lean body toned in all the right places and his square jaw, but he's as good as a married man. I need to get myself together.

I try to shake it off as best I can and head back out into the sunshine for the rest of the afternoon.

I get so lost in my work in the gardens and greenhouses that I barely notice the sun beginning to sink below the treeline in the distance. The chill in the air from the disappearing sun is what draws me out of my single-minded focus. Once again, I brush the soil from my clothing and head towards my office. It only takes a few minutes to gather my personal belongings – sunglasses, a travel coffee mug, wallet, and keys – before I head out to check the locks. After ensuring that the place is secure, I head out to my beat up old car. It takes a couple of tries before the engine finally turns over. I really need to have Gale take a look at it.

When I finally pull up to the small townhouse that my boyfriend, Gale Hawthorne, and I rent together, the sun has completely set and the sky has taken on an inky, matted black tone. Gale's pickup is in the driveway and the porch light is on, as well as the kitchen light, and I can see him moving from counter to counter. After a minute, I sigh and make my way into the house.

It's sparsely furnished, as neither Gale nor I could ever be considered a homemaker. The space consists of necessary furniture items with a few personal touches. No fuss, no muss.

“Gale?” I call in the direction of the kitchen.

“In here,” he responds and I make my way to him, shrugging off my jacket and toeing off my boots as I go. My jeans have permanent grass stains at the knees and my company logo polo shirt is worn in all the right places.

“Hey, Catnip,” Gale greets me with a smile before leaning down and brushing his lips over mine. I return his smile when I see that he has brought home Chinese take-out for dinner.

“Ooh, my favorite!” My eyes light up.

“I hope you're talking about me,” he says.

“Nope. Beef lo mein,” I joke, grabbing the carton off of the counter and heading back into the living room and plopping myself down on the couch. Gale follows, carrying the rest of the food and a bottle of wine. He settles himself next to me before pouring us each a glass.

“How was your day?” he asks, his mouth full of rice.

“Good. I had a meeting with a couple interested in using the gardens as a wedding venue. I think it went well,” I tell him. “Oh! Another thing – my car gave me a hard start earlier. Can you take a look at it?”

“Sure, you're off tomorrow right? I'll look at it in the morning. Then maybe we can go for a hike or to the shooting range?” he suggests.

I nod in agreement, turning back to my food and the mindless reality show flashing across the television. Gale and I spend a few minutes in comfortable silence, finishing our food and wine.

When we're both full and the bottle is empty, he twines his arms around my waist, pulling me into his lap. “So I talked to my mom today,” he says, tentatively.

I stiffen. Nothing good happens when Gale talks to his mother. It’s not because Hazelle is a bad person – she's actually one of the sweetest, kindest women I've ever met and a great mother to Gale and his siblings. It’s because she wants what any Sicilian mother wants for her son - marriage and babies. Whenever Gale talks to her, his head is filled with notions of me pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen.

I love Gale, I truly do. I've known him since I was a kid and he has supported me through so much. Starting a relationship with him was a comfortable, easy choice – not to mention one that everyone already expected me to make. Hell, I think our parents would have arranged a marriage between us if it was still in fashion. Yet it was his familiarity that drew me to him and his consistency that made me stay. I didn't have the desire to build a relationship from the ground up with some other man; with Gale, the work was already done. Gale is mine and I am his.

But he knows how I feel about marriage and children. He’s been trying to sway me for years, but I refuse to budge. I can't budge. And every time we have this conversation, it ends in an argument.

“Gale,” I start with a wary note in my voice.

“Katniss,” Gale says. I can tell he's serious by the way he uses my full name. “We have to talk about this. You can't keep brushing it off.”

“You know how I feel about marriage,” I say, sliding off of his lap and back onto the sofa.

“But what about how I feel? We've been together our whole lives, Katniss. I love you. I want to have a future with you.”

“Why do we need to have a piece of paper to have a future?” I ask, the tension between us growing. “I love you too, but it's just not for me.”

“But it is for me, Katniss. It's something that's important to me,” he says, exasperated. He scrubs his face with both of his hands. After a minute, he looks at me, his eyes red and his face bearing a wounded expression. “You make other people's wedding dreams come true every day, but what about mine?”

“Gale, this is too much. It's just not something that I'm willing to do. I'm going to bed.” He huffs angrily as I push myself away from him and head to our bedroom. I quickly strip down to my underwear and pull on a worn t-shirt before I slip underneath the comforter and turn to face the wall, my back to the door.

After laying in bed for awhile, I hear Gale make his way into the bedroom. I lay there silently as he shuffles around in the dark before slipping into the bed beside me. He comes up close behind me and I feel his large, calloused hand slip under my shirt. He reaches up to briefly palm my breast before dragging his hand down, his fingertips dancing along the edge of my panties, just barely sliding underneath the elastic. I keep my breathing deep and steady, feigning sleep.

After a moment, Gale lets out a frustrated sigh and turns his back to me. I eventually slip into a light, fitful sleep.

*

The next few weeks pass by uneventfully. I spend my time working and carefully avoiding any heavy conversations with Gale. We easily slip back into our comfortable routine, but there is an undeniable tension between the two of us. There's always tension for a little while after we have one of our “marriage talks”, but this time, it seems to be lasting a lot longer.

Three weeks after I meet with Delly and Peeta, I'm working in the greenhouse when my cell phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull off my gloves and reach for it. The number is one that I don't recognize, but I answer anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Miss Everdeen. I mean Katniss. This is Peeta – Peeta Mellark. I'm calling to see if we can schedule a time to meet up and talk about the details of my wedding?” His voice is deep, yet soft and melodious.

“Of course, Peeta! Hello! Sure, absolutely. What would work best for you and Delly?” I ask him.

“Actually, Delly won't be there. She's put me in charge of the food, so it will just be me this time.”

I'm a bit taken aback by this. Most brides I work with don't let their fiances anywhere near the planning. I can't say I'm not pleasantly surprised, though. Peeta seems like a really nice guy.

“Okay, great. I'm actually free this afternoon or tomorrow, if that works for you?”

“This afternoon is actually perfect. Can I meet you at Twelve Gardens in an hour?” he asks.

“Perfect. I'll be waiting for you in my office.” I end the phone call with a smile. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there's something about Peeta that makes me feel comfortable.

I clean up my work area and head into the main building just in time to see the tall blond man enter through the main doors. He is wearing khakis and a blue button up, his navy tie crafted into a neat windsor knot at the base of his throat. His hair is perfectly disheveled, the type of hairstyle one would find on models gracing the pages of GQ. I study his face as he walks towards me, his perfect jawline once again my focus. I shake my head to clear it before meeting his crystal blue eyes.

“Mr. Mellark, so nice to see you again.” I offer him my hand for a formal shake. He grasps it tightly.

“Please, call me Peeta. 'Mr. Mellark' seems so formal, especially since I bet you and I are going to become good friends with all of this planning to do. It seems stressful at times,” he offers with a smile. I don't know why my heart leaps at his suggestion that we might become friends, but it does. I remind myself that he is only speaking about a professional relationship.

“It can get stressful, I assure you. I can't tell you how many meltdowns I've witnessed,” I joke. “Let's go into my office and we can get started.”

“Actually, I hope this isn't too forward, but would you mind if we went somewhere to eat? I just finished work and I didn't have time for lunch. I'm starving and there's a sandwich shop right around the corner,” he states, a slight hesitation in his voice.

I'm a bit surprised; my clients usually want to get in and out of my office as quickly and efficiently as possible. I think briefly about insisting we have our meeting in my office but a deep growl from my stomach gives away the fact that I haven't eaten today either.

“There's my answer. Let's go, my treat,” laughs Peeta, ushering me out of the building. I lock the door behind us and climb into the passenger seat of his car. After a brief stop to make sure the gates to the grounds are secure, we are headed two blocks south to a deli called Greasy Sae's.

“I swear, this is the best Italian deli in the area. The owner is amazing; she barely speaks English but her sandwiches are so fresh and to die for,” Peeta assures me. He orders a turkey and swiss on sourdough, I go all out and opt for a reuben. Before I can stop him, Peeta has paid for both of our lunches.

“You didn't have to pay, Peeta,” I tell him, a little embarrassed.

“I dragged you out of your office in the middle of the work day. It's the least I can do,” he responds cheerfully. I twist my hands and mumble my thanks, unable to look him in the eyes.

When our sandwiches are gone, I pull a handful of folders and a binder out of my bag. “Okay, so here are your options for the food. You want to go with my caterer, right?”

“Yeah, Delly and I think that would just be easier. My family's bakery will do the cake, though,” he tells me.

“Oh, your family owns a bakery?” I ask.

He nods. “It's downtown, been in the family for years. Mellark's – maybe you've heard of it?”

I slap my forehead; of course his family owns Mellark's! I can't believe I didn't make the connection. It's not like it's a common name. “I do. My sister loves your cookies, the hand iced ones,” I tell him, my face turning red. “They're always so beautiful.”

“That would be my doing. My mother says it's the only good thing that came out of art school. She insists that I still put in a shift or two every weekend, despite having a full teaching schedule.” He rolls his eyes.

“Oh, you're a teacher? What made you break away from the bakery?” I inquire before cringing at the prying nature of my question. “You don't have to answer that. That was so rude of me,” I quickly add.

To my relief, he lets out a low chuckle. His smile ignites in his eyes as he begins to talk. “No, it's okay, really. I have always been really passionate about art. There's only so much you can do with icing, it just wasn't enough for me anymore. So, I turned down the University of Pennsylvania and went to University of the Arts instead. My mother was livid and didn't talk to me for a whole semester. After I graduated, I got a job teaching art at my old high school. The rest, as they say, is history,” he laughs.

“Wow. It must have been hard for you to go against your family like that,” I say.

“Not as hard as you’d think. The semester of silence from my mother was pretty peaceful,” he admits with a laugh. “Now, Katniss. It's my turn. How did you come to be in control of Twelve Gardens?”

My stomach clenches at the idea of telling this stranger about my father, but something in his eyes has my normally solid guard crashing down. “Well, like I told you before, my dad was a botanist. He opened the gardens to sustain his research – the visitors paid for him to pursue his passion. And I think he just wanted to share that passion with the masses,” I start, hesitating slightly before continuing. “When he passed away, I was fresh out of college with a degree in biology. My mom had let the place go when my dad was sick, so I cleaned it up and started offering it as a wedding venue so that I could have the freedom to continue his research.” I say all of this without making eye contact with Peeta, even after I finish speaking. Instead, I keep my eyes trained on my knotted fingers which are resting on the table.

Peeta reaches across and soothes my wringing hands. When I still won't lift my head, he reaches up and grabs my chin, tilting it upwards. My eyes snap to his in surprise.

“I think you're really brave and strong for continuing your father's work, Katniss. It clearly was important to him,” he says quietly. I clear my throat and he removes his hand, but I can still feel the heat of him, the skin underneath where his fingers rested giving off a pleasant tingle.

“Thank you. So, uh, how did you meet Delly?” I ask, trying to bring it to the forefront of my mind that this man has a fiancee. A woman that he is in love with enough to marry.

It's Peeta's turn to feel uncomfortable. He shifts in his seat before answering. “She's an old family friend. I've known her since we were babies and I guess our parents sort of pushed us to date, always assuming that we would end up together. My mother got her way about one thing,” he says sourly.

I find it odd that he is speaking of his impending marriage with such a regretful tone, but I push it out of my mind. In an effort to get back to the professional relationship we had only an hour ago, I gesture to the paperwork spread across the table. “Well, we have a few different options here for you to choose from, a buffet or a sit-down dinner, champagne toasts and things like that. If you want to take a minute to decide, just check off your choices and I'll relay all the information to the caterer.”

Peeta’s candid tone throws me for a loop, so I politely excuse myself and head to the restroom. His honesty and lack of filter is making my head spin. I can feel the obvious chemistry between us, but I need some time to remind myself that he is not mine; he will never be mine. After spending a few moments composing myself inside the stall, I head back out through the dining room to our table. Peeta sits there with a kind smile on his face, but all traces of our uncomfortably familiar conversation are gone. He hands me a stack of papers.

“All finished. Now let's get that deposit out of the way.”

We head back to my office, but this time, the short car ride is deathly silent. Neither of us makes any move to speak until we are at my desk, and from there on out, it's all business. Peeta puts down his deposit and I firmly schedule the wedding for the fifteenth of June, next year. After the transaction is complete, I walk him to the main doors of the building.

“I'll talk to the caterer tomorrow and give her your choices. We can have your cocktail hour in this building while the staff sets up the gazebo for your reception. I'm sorry we didn't have time for it today, but give me a call next week and let me know what you'd like to do as far as the bar options go. We have a little bit more time with that, though,” I tell him.

“Thanks for everything, Katniss. And thank you for having lunch with me,” Peeta says sincerely.

“No, thank you for lunch. After all, you paid.” I flash a quick smile.

“So, we'll be in touch then.” I nod at him and he starts toward his car. He makes no move to shake my hand this time, but does allow himself one more glance as he's unlocking the driver side door. His eyes meet mine for a moment and I think I see a trace of regret in them once again. I blink hard, breaking our eye contact, before turning and quickly striding into the building.

*

That night brings another uncomfortable situation with Gale. The tension between us has been building and he doesn't help matters by bringing home an engagement ring.

“I know you don't appreciate grand gestures, Katniss. I'm not going to flash your name across a Jumbotron or get down on one knee, probably because I think you would knock me out if I did. But I bought this for you, and I hope you'll wear it,” he says as I'm drying the dishes. My mouth goes dry and my heart thumps as I turn to him.

He sets the black velvet box on the counter and leaves the kitchen. It takes me a minute to catch my breath before I snatch up the box and stalk through the living room, where Gale is nonchalantly sitting on the couch watching the news, and into our bedroom. I close the door and pop the lock in the knob.

My knees are shaking so I sit down on the bed. I swallow hard, which does nothing for the lump in my throat, before opening the box. The lid opens with a creak to reveal a big, flashy princess cut diamond solitaire. It’s beautiful, but I don't want to get married to anyone. It’s not Gale’s fault, but if I were to ever change my mind about marriage, this would not be the ring for me. It's wrong, all of this wrong. I love Gale, but I just can't do this.

I walk back into the living room where Gale is still sitting on the couch, his shoulders tense and his eyes too firmly fixated on the television to actually be paying attention. I perch on the edge of the cushion next to him, trying to fit my jumbled thoughts into coherent statements. I give up after a while and sink back into the sofa. He puts his arm stiffly over my shoulder, but I don't miss the way his eyes flick to the empty ring finger on my left hand. The pain registers in his gray eyes, but he keeps the rest of his expression stoic.

We don't speak for the rest of the night and when I get up to go to bed, Gale stays behind. I wake up the next morning to find his side of the bed cold.

Neither of us mentions the ring box that continues to sit in the middle of his dresser, the lid open and the flashy diamond taunting the both of us. It stays there for a week, and then suddenly vanishes.

*

As the months progress, Peeta and I actually become friends. He's a lot more involved in the planning process than any groom I've ever met, so most of my meetings are with him. He never lets us hold our meetings in my office, instead taking me back to Sae's, or to one of his favorite coffee shops or cafes in the area. It gets to the point where we're meeting for lunch or coffee a few times a week, whether there are wedding details to be settled or not.

We're drinking coffee at The Hob one afternoon when we discover that we went to school together. I was a bit of a loner back then, and Gale was my only real friend. I felt intimidated by the more popular students and tried to steer clear of them, which is why Peeta and I never crossed paths.

“I'm not surprised that you didn't notice me, Peeta. I was nothing special,” I tell him shyly.

“Oh, but I did notice you, Katniss, even before high school. It was the first day of kindergarten and you were wearing the prettiest red plaid dress. Your hair was in two braids and when you belted out whatever song we were singing in music class louder than anyone else – I knew that I'd never forget you.” Peeta's eyes are intense, burning into mine. I blush and break the eye contact.

“Peeta...” I trail off. The intensity of the conversation is palpable and threatens to choke me with each breath. The air between us is pregnant with emotion that has slowly been building over these past few months, right under my very nose. I realize in this moment that I’ve been consciously ignoring the signs – how he had taken to guiding me with his hand on the small of my back, or how he would brush my fly-aways back into my braid without a second thought, usually letting his fingertips linger on my jaw – for fear of losing them. Or rather, of losing him.

“Katniss, do you remember that first day when we were at Sae’s, when you asked me about Delly?”

“I do. You said that your mother had gotten her way.”

“Did you find it at all odd that I would speak about my fiancee that way? I mean, I'm supposed to be so swept up in love right now, marrying the woman of my dreams,” he says.

“Peeta, I – I don't know,” I stammer.

He cuts me off. “It's because my mother did get her way. She pushed Delly and I together for years because of who her family is. I was content to just go right along with it because I didn't want to make waves, especially after the shitstorm surrounding my decision to go to art school. And besides, Delly is one of my best friends, so I figured that would be enough to hold a marriage together. But I don't love her. I don't love her, Katniss,” Peeta says forcefully, his tone hardening at the last statement.

I can't bring myself to look at him, so I start shredding the paper napkin in my lap.

“It's you, Katniss. It's always been you. I thought I would grow out of my childhood crush when we graduated, but that day I saw you again at Twelve Gardens, it all came rushing back. I can't marry her, Katniss. It wouldn't be fair to me or to her.”

I stand up abruptly. “It's time to go.”

Peeta doesn't say another word as we settle the bill and head back to the gardens. He does, however, follow me back into my office.

Before I can get a word in, Peeta grabs my wrist and swings me around. His lips crash onto mine and my body reacts without my permission. Our lips move together in sync, and when his tongue swipes along the seam of my mouth, I grant him entry without question. Our teeth and tongues tangle together, our hands roaming all over each other’s bodies, trying to cover as much ground as possible in the shortest amount of time. I start getting dizzy from my inability to breathe and bring my hands up from cupping his firm, slightly rounded ass and settle them on his chest, giving him a firm push.

We pant for a minute as we break apart, both of us attempting to catch our breath.

“No, Peeta. Go home to your fiancee – your future wife. This isn't right, I can't do this,” I choke out.

I see the protest in his eyes and I shut it down immediately. “Go!”

Peeta spins on his heel and quickly walks to the door, only pausing for a moment to look back and shoot a pleading look in my direction. I turn my back on him and I hear the doorknob click as he makes his way out.

*

I find myself missing Peeta as the weeks pass. He only tries to contact me once, a brief text message asking me to meet up and talk, but I ignore it. I go about my daily routine at the gardens and at home, pretending like nothing has happened. It's like I'm on autopilot – I go to work, push through, and try to find a semblance of balance with Gale at home. Things have been a bit icy between us since the ring incident, but we have reverted back into our normal rhythm.

One sunny Thursday, about six weeks after my kiss with Peeta, I realize I’m dragging myself through a particularly grueling day. None of my appointments show up on time, one of my crossbreeds starts wilting prematurely, and one of the hired hands calls out for the second time in three days. By the time the sun sets, I am hauling ass to my decrepit car, counting the seconds until I'm home for the night.

My spine stiffens at the sight of the empty driveway and the dark house – Gale should surely be home by now.

I cautiously enter the house. All of the lights are off, so I make my way through the downstairs, switching on every light I come across. Once the place is sufficiently illuminated, I notice that there are some things missing. The Playstation underneath the television, and an end table from the corner of the sofa. I walk into the bedroom and register the missing dresser and some of the few personal items that were scattered around. I check the bathroom and notice that all of Gale's toiletries are missing and the hamper is less full than it was when I left this morning.

I make my way back out into the living room in a daze. I shuffle through the pockets of my coat until I find my phone. Once I find it, I dial Gale's number from memory. He answers on the first ring.

“Catnip.” His voice is tight.

“Gale, where are you? What the hell is going on?” I demand.

“Are you home already? I was hoping to be there when you got off work,” he answers.

“What do you mean you were hoping to be here? Where are you?” I repeat.

“Look, Katniss.” I recoil at the fact that he is using my full name and not the childhood nickname that he's so fond of. “I wanted to say this to you in person. I'm sorry that this is happening over the phone, because you don't deserve it.”

“What's happening over the phone, Gale? I come home and half of our stuff is missing. What the hell are you doing?” I all but shout.

“I can't do this anymore. I can't sit around and wait for you to come around. I want a family – a wife and children. You can't give that to me, so don't pretend that you can. I just, I can't anymore. I'm sorry.” Gale’s voice starts out strong, but falters towards the end. I don't even respond, I just hang up the phone as I sink to the hardwood floor, my life completely crashing at my feet. I can't tell if the tears I’m shedding are for Gale or Peeta, but they flow heavily nonetheless.

The next three months go by quickly and my life changes in ways I never expected. I can't afford the rent on the townhouse without Gale, so we split up the furniture and I move into a smaller apartment. Peeta stops calling and texting, which means Delly is the one who shows up to our remaining appointments. I'm not sure what Peeta told her to explain his sudden lack of participation in the wedding planning, but Delly doesn't act any differently towards me. I decide that it's best to just keep my mouth shut.

I find myself going through the motions with little enthusiasm. I stop visiting the greenhouses, only staying around the gardens to take appointments and keep up the grounds.

Three months and two weeks to the day after my breakup with Gale, I'm sitting in my office when my phone rings. Prim's picture flashes across the screen. After our father died, my mother couldn't cope with anything, much less the gardens. Eventually, she decided that this place held too many memories and moved back to where her family was originally from in upstate New York. I stayed here and took over Twelve Gardens, but Prim was too young to stay. She went with Mom and later decided to attend Syracuse University. It's hard being away from the one person in my life that I truly love, but Prim and I are usually really good about keeping in touch via phone and Skype.

I haven't been keeping up with my end of the bargain lately, so my heart lifts when I see her name on the screen.

“Hey, Little Duck,” I answer.

“Katniss! Where have you been?! I feel like I haven't heard your voice in ages!”

“Oh, you know, just doing my thing,” I laugh hollowly.

“What's going on with you? I know that tone,” Prim asks.

“Well, uh, Gale left,” I mumble into the phone.

“He what? He really left?” she asks, the disbelief evident in her voice.

“I couldn't give him what he wants, Prim. It is what it is.”

“What else is going on, Katniss? I know that's not the only thing bothering you, I can hear it in your voice. It sounds like you’ve given up,” she demands.

I tell her all about what happened with Peeta. “I was so preoccupied with another man that I let things fall apart with Gale.”

“That's not it, Katniss. No one wanted to say anything, but it's been a long time coming between you and Gale. We all saw it. Do you have feelings for Peeta?”

“I don't want to have feelings for Peeta, Prim,” I state.

“That's not what I asked you, so I’ll say it again. Do you have feelings for Peeta?”

“I think I do, but it doesn't matter. He doesn't want anything to do with me. And even if he did, it's a moot point anyway. He's getting married. I think maybe I need some time off, to get away from the situation and clear my head. Maybe I'll come stay with you and Mom for a while,” I sigh.

“I think you need to stay there and confront your problems, but I won’t lie - I would love to see you,” Prim tells me.

*

After hanging up with Prim, I start rearranging the schedule so that I can take some time off. I need to get out of here and escape the ghosts of both Gale and Peeta. I'm deeply engrossed in my own thoughts when an unexpected knock at my office door, bringing me back to reality.

My face contorts in surprise when I open it and Delly enters my office.

“Hi, Delly. I'm sorry, did I forget an appointment?”

“No, no. I'm sorry to drop in on you unannounced. I just, well, I wanted to talk to you about my wedding,” she starts, her voice shaky.

“Sure, is there something that you'd like to change?”

“No… well… I guess yes. There isn't going to be a wedding,” she tells me. I can see the sheen of tears in her eyes, though she doesn't let them fall.

“I'm so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Not really. Peeta called it off, but he wouldn't give me a reason. I guess I'm just wondering how we proceed from here, given the circumstances,” she says, her voice cracking at the end.

“Well, all of the money that you’ve paid until now will be refunded, minus the deposit. With only a month left until the wedding, I won't be able to fill that spot.” I try to convey a comforting, sympathetic tone.

“Of course. I expected as much,” she sighs.

“I'll make sure your refund gets issued right away,” I assure her. 

“Thank you, Katniss. I appreciate it. And I'm sorry.” She stands up and shakes my hand before rushing out of the office, her shiny blonde hair whipping out behind her.

I sink back into my desk chair and rest my forehead on the cool wooden surface. Yes, I definitely need a break from this place.

*

The next day, I'm in my office clearing out my desk, getting rid of the clutter that has accumulated and filing important documents so that my head groundskeeper, Haymitch Abernathy, can use the space in my absence. He's a crazy old drunk who tends to the geese by the pond, keeping them fat and happy. He's a family friend and has been on staff for as long as I can remember, so I trust him implicitly. I’m certain that he will keep things running smoothly in my absence.

The door swings open, but I keep going about my business. “Haymitch, I made a list of all the things I need you to keep an eye on while I'm gone. I'll leave it on the corkboard here,” I say.

“Where are you going?” a deep, familiar voice demands. I look up and my breath catches in my throat when I see Peeta standing in the doorway. His hair is mussed from his hands running through it constantly, a nervous tic of his. There are also bags under his eyes, but he is still as beautiful as I remember him being all those months ago.

“Peeta, what are you doing here?” I manage to choke out. He doesn't answer, but strides behind my desk until he's right in front of where I’m sitting, grabs my elbows and pulls me up to stand in front of him. Without warning, his lips find mine and he presses into me, hard.

My lips meet his eagerly and when his arms circle my waist, I reach up to bury my fingers in his blond locks. He deepens the kiss, swiping his tongue across my lips and my mouth parts eagerly, granting him access as I reach forward with my fingers and fumble with his belt. I don't have time to think, my body reacts without my permission. 

Peeta breaks our kiss and reaches for the hem of my polo, pulling it up and over my head before flinging it into the corner. His palms find my breasts through my bra and he kneads them roughly, eliciting a deep moan from me before my subconscious tells me that all of this is happening way too fast. I gently push him away to give us some much needed breathing room. 

“Katniss, I'm sorry I just burst in here,” Peeta starts, “But I'm not sorry about what just happened. I've been wanting you for so long now.”

“But Peeta, this is wrong. I mean, you and Delly just broke up-”

He slams his fist down on the desk, his belt still unbuckled. “How the fuck is it wrong, Katniss? I've wanted you for as long as I can remember. I was forced into an engagement I didn't want because you didn't even know who I was. I spent years thinking about you, too scared to make any sort of move. And now I've finally built up enough courage in myself to end the relationship that was making me miserable and acknowledge the fact that you and I are supposed to be together.” His eyes flash with anger. After a moment of silence from me, they soften. “I know there’s something between us. I can feel it, and I’m pretty sure you do, too,” he whimpers. “Please, please just admit it, Katniss... stop trying to deny it.”

He's right. I can't deny the flames that he ignites in me, or the burning need I feel whenever I'm around him. I can't deny it, but that doesn't mean I won't try. I turn my back on Peeta for a second time, leaning against the far wall of my office with my head in my hands. It's quiet for a minute but eventually I hear him storm out of my office and I jump as the door slams, crushing my heart into a million pieces.

*

I'm still sitting in my office nearly two hours later when my phone rings. Expecting it to be Prim, I pull it out of my pocket and look at the screen. Peeta's name flashes and I quickly silence it, the coward in me taking over. The screen is barely black for a second before it lights up again with Peeta's name. I draw in a shaky breath and slide the lock screen. “Hello?” I answer weakly.

“Hi, um, is this Katniss?” an unfamiliar male voice asks. The hairs on the back of my neck instantly stand on end.

“This is she,” I say cautiously.

“I'm sorry to bother you, but I got your number from Peeta's phone. He was asking for you and I thought he would want me to call...” the voice trails off.

“Who is this?” I ask, panic beginning to creep into my voice.

“This is Rye; I’m Peeta's brother. He's been in an accident and hasn’t stopped mumbling your name since the paramedics brought him in. We're at Capitol University Medical Center; I think you should come. Please hurry.”

All of the air is sucked out of the room as I hang up the phone; my chest feels like it's about to cave in as I practically choke while trying to take a breath.

*

I don't know how I manage to get to the hospital or even navigate my way to Peeta's floor, but I eventually find myself standing in a waiting room faced with a small pack of blonde-haired, blue-eyed Mellarks.

“Who are you?” a stern-faced, cold-looking woman, who I can only assume is Peeta's mother, asks me with a note of distaste in her voice.

“I'm Katniss.”

A kind-faced man who must be his father steps forward. “Katniss, I knew your mother a long time ago. I had no idea you and Peeta were so close. He's been asking for you.” He smiles warmly at me even though his face is streaked with tears.

“I'll take her,” a taller, older version of Peeta volunteers.

As we head down the hallway, Rye explains what happened. “It was slick out and he was driving too fast. He lost control of the car and hit a telephone pole. He's mostly okay, but his left leg is pretty mangled. They say it's going to be a lot of work to get him walking again, but it will happen.”

We reach Peeta's room and Rye pushes the door open. Peeta is lying in the bed hooked up to all kinds of tubes and machines, his skin pale and his leg pulled up in traction. I gasp at the sight and turn to leave, but Rye grabs a hold of me, preventing my escape.

“No, Katniss. Peeta's told me about you and I'm not going to let you walk away from him this time. You need to go in there. He needs you.” He gently shoves me into the room and shuts the door firmly behind him.

Peeta is unconscious. I make my way to the chair on the side of his hospital bed. As soon as I perch on the edge and take Peeta's limp hand in mine, I let out a sob. One leads to another and soon enough, my body is heaving from the force of my hysterics. It takes me a while, but I eventually calm down.

I'm normally not very good with words, but I lay my head down at Peeta's side, my face pressed into the mattress, and all of my thoughts begin tumbling out of me like word vomit.

“I'm so sorry, Peeta. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have let you leave this afternoon. I should have told you how I felt. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please wake up. I love you,” I whisper to his still form.

I practically jump out of my skin when I feel his hand stroking my braid.

“Peeta! I thought you were asleep,” I blush, realizing that he probably heard my confession.

“Katniss. You came,” he whispers.

“Of course I came,” I state matter-of-factly.

His eyes meet mine and all of the love that I’ve been suppressing for him comes rushing to the surface. It's both messy and complicated, but it's where I need to be. At this very moment, I know I will fight for him no matter what the cost.

He reaches up and strokes my hair again before brushing his fingertips along my jaw and cupping my cheek. I tilt my head and kiss his palm.

“Stay with me?” I ask him, my eyes portraying all of the deeper meanings behind my words.

“Always,” he murmurs before locking his hand with mine, our fingers tangling together.

*

\- One year later -

I let out a contented sigh as I sit in my office, my feet propped up on the desk, the sunlight filtering in through the window. The sun will be setting soon and I want to watch from the gazebo in the gardens. I think about how much nicer it would be to have Peeta here with me, so I pull out my phone to call him. Before I even unlock the screen, he’s standing in the doorway.

“Peeta, I was just about to call you!”

“Great minds think alike,” he smirks, leaning against the frame.

He looks so good standing there, his hair slightly mussed and his t-shirt stretching across his broad chest, that the need to touch him overwhelms me. I cross the room and stand in front of him, circling my hands around his neck and standing on my toes to plant a kiss on his mouth.

It starts as a chaste peck, but Peeta tilts his head and deepens the kiss. I open my mouth eagerly to him and he shifts me further into the office, never breaking his lips from mine. Peeta’s hands roam up and down my sides before making their way down to firmly grip my backside.

The hard edge of the desk hits the back of my thighs and Peeta wastes no time lifting me up onto it, spilling its contents to the floor. I break the kiss just long enough to murmur, “Lock the door, Peeta.” 

He takes the hint and I hear a faint click before he returns to me, sealing his lips over mine once more. This kiss is more heated, more impatient. He trails his lips along my jaw, licking and sucking. I lean my head to the side, granting him access, and hook my fingers through his belt loops to pull him even closer. I wrap my legs around his waist and gasp when he tilts his hips, firmly pushing his hardness against me.

My fingers find the hem of my shirt and I tug it off, throwing it over my shoulder. Peeta’s lips and tongue find their way back to my pulse point and I feel his appreciative smile against my heated skin.

“Is this okay?” he pants against my neck. I answer him by reaching forward to unbutton his jeans. He growls deep in his throat when I shove his pants and boxer briefs roughly down his hips, causing his erection to spring free. I wrap my hand around his silky length, running my hand from base to tip.

He presses up against me, his erection hard against my stomach as he trails kisses down my neck, nipping lightly at my collarbone. I let out a soft moan before tugging at the hem of his shirt. Peeta takes the hint and discards it in the same fashion that I did with mine.

I sigh and trail my fingers down his hard abdomen, my fingers first tangling in the sparse patch of hair on his chest followed by the coarse, blond trail of hair leading to his thick length. He groans as my hands reach under to cup his sac.

“You need to be naked,” he growls and I lift my hips, allowing him to slide my jeans and panties off, not even bothering with the button. His tip brushes against my heated core and I gasp. With one quick, decisive thrust, Peeta sheaths himself fully inside me. We stay that way for a moment, our gazes locked.

Peeta presses his forehead against mine, never breaking eye contact, before he moves. His thrusts start off slow and languid, building up the ache in my belly. My hips rise to match each of his movements, my sensitive clit brushing against his pubic bone with every upstroke. I feel him starting to tense as his pace quickens, and when his fingers brush over my bundle of nerves, the spring in my stomach immediately snaps, reducing me to a shuddering and mewling heap. When my limbs finally relax, Peeta's thrusts become choppy and erratic before he quickly pulls out. I reach for him and give his cock two quick pumps before he spills himself hotly on my stomach.

“Katniss,” he groans, low and breathy, from the back of his throat.

We stay that way for awhile, the aftermath of our lovemaking cooling on my stomach. Once we’ve recovered, he reaches for the box of tissues perched on the corner of the desk, mopping up the mess he made.

I let out a laugh as he cleans me.

“What’s so funny?” He shoots me an exaggerated glare, but his smirk gives him away.

“Why did you pull out? It’s not like this is our first time, stud. Have you been watching YouPorn again?” I tease, swatting at his bicep before gathering up my clothes.

“I don’t know, it just seemed hot. Shut up!” He blushes all the way up to his hairline as he pulls on his jeans. When we’re finally decent, we head out into the gardens.

The sun is beginning to sink in the sky, the warm orange hues filtering through the branches of the trees overhead light our path. We circle through the flowerbeds, eventually ending up at the gazebo.

We settle on a bench to watch the sunset. I drape my legs across my boyfriend’s lap, his fingers lightly tracing patterns over my thighs.

“Do you remember the first time I came here?” Peeta asks me, his voice soft and low.

“Yeah, I was trying to get you to pick this place to marry another girl. Great memories,” I snort.

“Well, what if we got married here?” 

“Peeta, I… what?” I stammer. He pushes my legs off his lap and slides down to kneel in front of me, slightly favoring his bad leg. He leans back on his heels, grasping both of my hands in his and resting them in my lap.

“Katniss, I never thought I could be this happy. When I walked into this place two years ago, I thought my life was already laid out for me. I was going through the motions because I didn’t care enough to change things. And then you came along and flipped everything upside down. You changed me, Katniss. And after the accident, you were the one who got me walking again when I wanted to give up. You’re the one who’s always protecting me, and I hope now you’ll let me do the same. Will you marry me?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black velvet box.

I take the box from his hands and my heart pounds as I slowly open the lid. Nestled in the velvet is a simple, rose gold band topped with a pearl. Flanking the pearl on either side are two small diamonds. It’s perfect.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Peeta,” I answer him. “I love you so much.”

He slips the ring onto my finger and settles beside me once again, pulling me into his arms and tilting my head as our lips meet in a deep, slow kiss. He rests his forehead against mine and gazes into my eyes.

“I’m not dreaming, am I, Katniss? This is real?” he asks me, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Yes, Peeta. It’s real.”


End file.
